


Komaeda needs the toilet (and Hinata really needs a hug)

by StrawberryPoison



Series: Komahina continuity [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Food, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scent Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Twilight Syndrome spoilers, Watersports, author projecting onto protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27527962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryPoison/pseuds/StrawberryPoison
Summary: Another SDR2 Chapter 2 Dining Room fic!Canon-divergence, in which Hinata respects Komaeda's human rights.Contains piss, but not just a piss fic, you could probably skip that section if you wanted.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Komahina continuity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177097
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Komaeda needs the toilet (and Hinata really needs a hug)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly self-indulgent fic in which I tried to cram in as many of my ideas about the chapter 2 dining room scene as possible. So, there's piss, but there's also a nice chat about video games. I probably should've written a series of short one shots exploring different ideas, but instead, here is this kind of long thing that I may be the only person to enjoy. It's not crack, I just really couldn't think of a title.
> 
> I'm not clogging the tags by listing every person, but other characters are mentioned.  
> It's dub con because there's stuff that happens without asking for consent, no one actually dislikes anything done to them, but that doesn't mean it would be okay irl. Hinata also has a pretty rapey thought at one point  
> It's underage because they're 16  
> Contains consumption of fish and dairy products
> 
> Generally, the characters think it's 2009. There's some mental health stigma, and there's some discomfort towards sexuality. I really do enjoy fics where it's basically a queer utopia, but as a former repressed bisexual teenager, that's more how I've written Hinata. So, once again, it's not particularly happy, but some of it is kind of cute. Plz don't kink shame

Hinata Hajime stood outside the door to the dining room of the old building. In his trembling hands was a tray, which held his reason for being there. The toast and milk he was carrying served as an excuse, a justification for his visit, but it was also a duty, a task that needed to be fulfilled. A reason not to back out.

Just the thought of going back into that room made Hajime nauseous. Isn’t smelling toast a sign of a stroke? Or was it a seizure? His anxious mind entertained the possibility, before his basic grasp of logic took over. He could smell toast because he was holding toast. All this meant was that his sense of smell was intact. Deep breaths. He opened the door.

A glance to the back of the room showed that the corpse had been removed- where was it now?- but his eyes were caught by one Komaeda Nagito lying on the floor.

He hadn’t expected that. For all the time Hajime had spent preparing himself to go in, he was completely thrown off by Nagito’s position. Hajime had imagined him tied to a chair like in a gangster movie, maybe even with tape covering that deceitful mouth. He had fully readied himself for Nagito to rock back and forth on his seat, looking like a psychiatric patient in a straitjacket, an image befitting of someone who so obviously belonged in a lunatic asylum. So, to instead see him lying still on the ground, like Byakuya a few days ago…

Dark spots started to fill Hajime’s vision, he had to fight against the dizziness that was starting to overcome him, he couldn’t allow himself to lose his grasp on consciousness, and wait, wasn’t Komaeda squirming? As Hajime calmed his breathing and successfully managed to prevent himself from fainting, Nagito’s eyes opened.

On seeing Hajime, his eyes lit up, and for a fraction of a second, Hajime felt the joy of being liked. He hadn’t managed to completely erase the associations he had of that smile. That pale face had been the first thing he’d seen after he’d regained consciousness when he really had passed out upon arriving on the island, those grey eyes filled with what had seemed to be genuine worry. Nagito had not only waited for him to wake, he’d helped him up, introduced him to the others. They’d even hung out, just the two of them. He’d been a source of calm in all this madness, before he’d revealed himself to be the maddest of all of them.

“Hinata-kun!”

There was real delight apparent in Nagito’s expression and the way he’d said Hajime’s name, although as Hajime stood dumbly, failing to form words, he noticeably winced. As if to try and cover this up, he babbled something about how happy he was to see Hajime, and sorry he couldn’t be more accommodating, but as Hajime stared him down, he looked a lot less relaxed.

Rather sheepishly, as if admitting he had bodily functions to Hajime was a source of great shame, he explained the reason for his pained expression:

“I need to use the toilet.”

This… was something else Hajime hadn’t prepared for. In all honesty, despite all the time he’d spent hesitating outside trying to psyche himself up, he’d not really planned for anything beyond actually opening the door.

Trying to take control of the situation, Hajime finally managed to speak to Nagito.

“And you need my help, I take it?”

There was no sign of a bucket or any method for Nagito to call for assistance. Such an oversight from the ultimate team manager was baffling, given the interest he took in maintaining his classmates’ health, but especially his tendency to bring up shit at any given moment.

“I can’t really do anything myself. You know, since my hands are all tied up… But I can at least reassure you I only need to pee, so you won’t have to deal with anything too disgusting,”

That at least was something to be grateful for, but ideally it wouldn’t be relevant. Hajime hoped to just take him to the toilet, let him do his business, and trust that he was too weak to overpower Hajime and would be escorted back to the dining hall and retied up. Put like that, it sounded simple, but untying knots and maybe getting into a fight were yet more things Hajime wasn’t really prepared for.

Hajime scanned Nagito’s body. His legs were tied together with rope which was in turn tied to a table leg with an excessive number of knots. Also tied to a table leg was a thick metal chain, which snaked its way up to where Nagito’s arms were held behind his back, attached to-

“H-handcuffs”

“Ah, yes, I don’t think they’d want to run the risk of someone just untying me. It’s so much harder to prepare a suitable murder when I’m trapped in one place,” he sighed, sounding dejected by the thought of not being killed by a classmate anytime soon.

“If you’re so eager to have someone literally murder you, why such a concern for your own needs? Shouldn’t you just wet yourself so I don’t have to deal with you?”

“Would that give you hope? I had no idea you were so perverted, Hinata-kun,”

He had the audacity to raise an eyebrow, although his face scrunched up in pain soon after, he was clearly more desperate than he was letting on.

Panic started to rise in Hajime’s stomach, his eyes darted round the room to no avail. Down on his knees, he tugged uselessly at the metal encasing Nagito’s wrists.

“Where the hell is the key? Komaeda, what happened to the key to your cuffs?”

“Most probably either Nidai-kun or Soda-kun has it, if they haven’t thrown it away. There is of course the possibility that there never was a key to begin with and I’m stuck like this permanently”

The breezy way Nagito spouted this did nothing to calm Hajime down as he tried to think where his inconsiderate classmates would be, coming to the horrifying realisation that there are three islands’ worth of places to check, and that even if he took an educated guess, they were probably on the new island: the furthest location of the three. Nagito’s smile looked decidedly forced at this point, Hajime could see the pain in his eyes betraying how desperate he was.

“Can you wait half an hour?”, he asked, knowing the answer, knowing he’s clutching at straws, trying to avoid the inevitable.

“Ah- no- if I don’t go n-now I might explode, although my body would make me p-piss myself before that happens unless I was plugged-“

Hajime ran to the kitchen before Nagito could get into describing bladder related torture methods, something he found a far less comforting distraction than the ever-pessimistic lucky student appeared to. He lunged for a pan from the shelf, not wasting time clattering about in the cupboards for something a better shape, like a mixing bowl or a jug, slamming the kitchen door back open with his shoulder before it’d even finished closing. Feet pounding against the creaky floorboards, he sprinted the short distance back to the dining hall, swinging open the double doors and practically leaping to close the distance between himself and the bound boy.

After such urgency, Hajime stopped abruptly, on his knees, pan in hand, flushing at the realisation that Nagito’s hands were of course still tied. All he’d done was removed the extra step of fiddling with knots and taking him to another room, the problem still remained that Nagito was in no position to remove his own pants. He forced himself to calm down and consider the situation. Untying Nagito was probably out of the question- it looked like it would be difficult, it put everybody at risk, but mostly Hajime just didn’t want to lose face about his mad dash to the kitchen in search of a receptacle.

“I’m going to have to move you,” he announced (he hoped) matter-of-factly, before crouching down and rolling Nagito onto his side. Unfortunately, the receptacle he had grabbed was an industrial sized saucepan, and although it was one of the smaller ones, it was far too tall to piss into lying down.

Further manhandling was required.

Positioning himself with his knees behind Nagito’s head, he tucked his hands into warm, slightly damp underarms, days of sweat seeping through his coat. Pulling him into a sitting position, Hajime was acutely aware of the fact he had another person pressed up against him. The warmth and weight of a body in his arms, heat radiating even through clothing, white, wavy locks of hair against his neck and chin, strong, musky scent emitting from it almost intoxicating. And the sound, oh God the sound, of breathing, Komaeda was breathing so heavily, so loudly, and Hajime found himself trying to calm his own breathing, to try and calm the heartbeat he was convinced the boy in his arms could feel on his back. Attempting to convince himself it was just because of the brief sprint to the kitchen that his heartbeat was so damn loud, Hajime changed position, keeping one arm propping Nagito up but moving to his side.

Hajime then grabbed for the pan again, holding it to Nagito’s crotch, and discovered that this was a terrible angle. Unless he had a massive cock- Hajime tried to repress that thought- the walls of the pan would still be too high. His mystery talent definitely wasn’t something that involved visualisation, this embarrassing ordeal was making that very clear. Sitting up would only be useful if he could get him to sit on top of the pan.

“You could try getting me on my knees, Hinata-kun,” Nagito suggested, ever so innocently.

Trying to ignore the heat in his crotch at those words, Hajime returned to Nagito’s back, grateful for the chance to hide his face, but worried about pressing up against him. It was too good, this body to body contact. Crouching, he hooked his arms under those sweat soaked armpits, and attempted to stand up. His face ended up buried in a mass of unwashed hair, he managed to move his hips back just enough to stop his dick touching Nagito through his clothes, although part of him desperately wanted to do the opposite, to pull him in closer and rub up against him… The rope and chain tautened, the snap causing a jolt that pulled the lucky boy into the far less lucky boy, who was getting increasingly frustrated. He hadn’t managed to lift him high enough up to swing those long, skinny legs back, so this method clearly wasn’t going to work.

There was something horribly painful about making a fool of himself in front of Komaeda fucking Nagito. Someone who acted like he was worthless, and that the rest of them are all so amazing, and yet was clearly intelligent, calculating, several steps ahead of them. Such high expectations, and Hajime couldn’t even get this right. He felt sure that he’d be deemed unworthy, and that shouldn’t hurt, he shouldn’t need Nagito’s approval, but without it, maybe he’d be chosen as the next victim, sacrificed for the sake of the true ultimates.

He lowered Nagito back down, lying him gently on the floor, before rolling him back onto his side. He grabbed his slender calves, definitely not enjoying the feeling of soft flesh around hard bone in his hands, and pulled them round. Now Nagito was actually in a kneeling position, all that was left was to pull him upright, ideally without getting too handsy. Although he did have an excuse to.

Refusing to look in his eyes to avoid seeing them clouded with disappointment, he reached over him, grabbing on his shoulders. He managed to pull Nagito far enough up and over that he was in a wonky side sitting position in his arms. Nagito let out a desperate whining noise in the back of his throat that made it pretty clear he didn’t have much resistance left in him, and would soak through his trousers if Hajime didn’t hurry up with the simplest of tasks. Spurred on, Hajime grabbed for his hip, although as it was obscured by his big coat, he grazed his fingers against Nagito’s pleasantly round buttock, something he was glad Nagito didn’t comment on. Still squatting down and pressed against Nagito’s shoulder, he pulled his body until he was properly kneeling up at last. He made sure he could support himself, before coming round to face the pale boy once more, joining him in a kneeling position.

Finally. Now all that was left was…

Hand shaking, he reached for the zip on Nagito’s snugly fitting trousers, looking away in shame as he realised he’d already started examining the crotch in front of him for the bulge of a-

Hajime cut off his thoughts, trying to undo the button without looking. He struggled a little with the angle but was successful, giving him access to… well. Hajime hesitated again, before groping for the fly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. But not looking did nothing to prevent him feeling the warmth of Nagito’s dick through the soft fabric. He felt a squishiness, realised he was touching Komaeda’s balls, let out a “S-sorry” and resigned himself to opening his eyes.

Nagito was wearing grey and white checked boxers, perfectly ordinary underwear. Hajime felt himself gasp, and his face heated up even more: there was a damp patch, and through the thin white squares he could see pink.

His eyes finally darted up to meet the grey ones of the teen kneeling in front of him.

He had the decency to at least look embarrassed.

“It’s probably no surprise that someone like me wasn’t even able to properly hold my bladder, I’m sorry you had to see, but could you – ah- hurry up, I know it’s beneath an ultimate to do this but if you wait much- ahh- longer I really don’t think I can’t stop myself from wetting myself- unless of course that’s what you wan-“

Hajime cut off the garbled monologuing before Nagito could make pants wetting somehow fit into the great battle between hope and despair by gritting his teeth and reaching for his cock. Nagito inhaled, and Hajime felt the penis in his hand twitch. The penis. In his hand. He stared at it, unable to look away. It was very pink compared to the rest of Nagito’s pale skin, but it was still considerably paler than Hajime’s own, and he could see the blue of some of the veins spiderwebbing around the thick main one. He could feel just the slightest stiffening, the tiniest hint of the head poking out of the foreskin, and for a long couple of seconds the two of them were transfixed.

“Ah, I’m gonna-!

Hajime hastily aligned Nagito’s trembling dick in one hand with the pan in the other as a powerful stream erupted from it. The sound felt overly loud and out of place, like the rush of a waterfall, filling the quiet of the dining room. It was a familiar noise, though, the gushing of hot liquid sounded like ordinary boiled water being added to a pan, a normal, domestic sound that just added to how dirty it felt to be filling a cooking pot with piss. Nagito let out a truly vulgar moan, the sound of relief betraying just how much he’d been suffering. This extra noise added to the obscenity of the situation and Hajime’s dick twitched violently, always far less shameless than the rest of him.

Droplets were spattering out from where the spray was hitting, and if it had been a smaller pan, they’d probably have got on Hajime. Instead, they danced about within the confines of the metal in a way that was surprisingly captivating. It was probably the fact it was filling up a cooking utensil, but Hajime found himself wondering what the liquid, glowing yellow against the dark surface, _tasted like._ What the hell was wrong with him?

As if in answer to his thoughts, Nagito’s cock jerked up, briefly altering the trajectory of the piss stream so it hit the side of the pan much higher up, drops splashing out like fireworks, a small amount flying out at an unexpected angle and landing on Hajime’s mouth and dripping down to his chin.

Nagito’s eyes widened in horror.

“I’m sorry… my luck… “

Hajime’s hands were full, and it wasn’t as if he had a cloth to wipe his face with. The urge to lick his lips was strong, but not as strong as the basic sense of decorum telling him not to. Certainly not with a witness. But leaving it to drip from his face as Nagito watched was definitely not an option, there was only so much humiliation Hajime could take.

He buried his face into his shoulder to wipe his mouth, but once he was sure Nagito couldn’t see, he poked his tongue out slightly and sucked his lips in. It tasted kind of sour, not exactly pleasant, but not unpleasant, either. He just drank pee. Someone else’s pee. Utterly disgusting, perverted behaviour. Blood was racing to his groin, which was surely even worse than the piss-drinking itself.

The stream of pee was now only a trickle, the sound higher pitched and almost musical.

A thought occurred to him. “Wait, your luck? You mean you wanted to piss on my face?” Hajime let his voice sound annoyed, because the idea was truly revolting, and shouldn’t be exciting him.

“I didn’t say that! This could be more bad luck that leads to good luck in the future!”

He didn’t outright deny it.

The urination seemed to come to an end, but then there were a few more spurts. The similarity to ejaculation definitely encouraged the cruel mixture of hormones bubbling up inside Hajime, and he bit his tongue at the sight. When it definitely seemed to be over, Nagito piped up:

“Uh, could you…?”

Hajime loosened his wrist to give the appendage- to give Komaeda’s dick- a shake, letting the last drops of urine fall into the already full pan, sending ripples across the surface. He started to worry about how precarious the pan of piss was, relying on his trembling arm to keep it steady. It was pretty heavy, and his hands were rather sweaty, it’d be so easy for him to drop it. If it were to spill the result would be worse than if Nagito had just wet himself. There was a lot and it was also heavily concentrated due to how long he’d been stuck tied up unattended. The smell was strong, definitely not something he’d want soaking his trousers. If it were jerked up in the right way, the liquid in the pan could maybe fly up onto Nagito’s torso, seeping through that white t-shirt to reveal his slender chest, those surprisingly toned abdominals…

Hajime realised he was still shaking Komaeda’s cock. It was pulsing and growing in his hand. Eyes widening, he spun his head round to look at Nagito, because why wasn’t he telling him to stop? The sight was utterly filthy. Nagito was blushing deeply, his eyelids were heavy, and he was biting his lip hard to stop himself from making sounds, from making disgusting, improper, lewd sounds. Hajime inhaled sharply through his nose, finding himself unable to let go, unwilling to even stop shaking his hand.

Hesitantly, he moved his hand up, pulling the foreskin back and forth over the head a couple of times at an agonisingly slow pace, eyes locked with Nagito’s. He looked startled, and the breathing through his nose got louder as he clearly struggled to prevent himself from making much more pornographic noises.

Releasing his grip on the taller boy, he placed the pan down and moved it as far away from the two of them as he could reach while still on the floor. Neither of them spoke. The sound of their breathing once again seemed all too loud in the silence. Hajime considered his options, his mind starting to clear now he no longer had another man’s sex organ in his hand.

Had Komaeda somehow planned this? Or was he just so lucky that even getting tied up and abandoned had led to him getting a hand job. Not that what just happened was a hand job, Hajime corrected himself, and there was still plenty of opportunity to back out now. If he just upped and left without doing anything more, there was still plausible deniability. All he’d done is assisted Nagito in using the toilet, it had been an emergency situation. And after that… he’d just been thorough in making sure his classmate was clean. The bastard loved cleaning so much, so Hajime was just being considerate. 

Hajime couldn’t help that his own stupid, rebellious cock was taking an interest in the scenario. If the others found out, they probably wouldn’t see it that way, especially if he were to do any of the things he was now thinking about because God, Komaeda was right there, warm and aroused and breathing heavily and helplessly tied up and on his knees…

Hajime couldn’t help but gasp, his hormones battling with his worries about what would happen if Nagito told on him.

But who was there to tell? Locked up in this room, who would even visit him? And after the trial, who would believe a word he said?

Inhibitions gone, he smashed his lips against Nagito’s. It was violent enough to hurt, and if he thought long enough, he’d probably think they both deserved the pain, Nagito for being an attempted killer, Hajime for kissing an attempted killer. But he wasn’t really thinking, this was a body and a body, a physical interaction fuelled by animal desire.

Mouths parting, he felt his tongue find Komaeda’s as if on instinct. There was definitely a lingering unpleasant taste to Nagito’s mouth, given his recent lack of access to a toothbrush, but the soft wetness felt so good that it really didn’t matter. Hajime pushed his tongue further in to explore Nagito’s mouth, took the opportunity to suck on Nagito’s tongue, feeling as though he were dehydrated and every kiss was a precious gulp of water. It was dangerously addictive. And the other boy was kissing back, reciprocating with an equal hunger, sucking at Hajime’s lips, fighting his tongue against Hajime’s, turning pink from the exertion until finally they gasped for breath.

Swallowing air deep into his lungs, it at last occurred to his lust-addled brain that Komaeda’s thirst was a lot more literal than his own, and he scanned the room for the discarded breakfast tray. Spotting it, he crawled over and retrieved the bottle of milk, ripping the top off.

He held the bottle to Nagito’s lips, giving a clear single word instruction: “Drink.”

He gulped the whole thing down, making obscene slurping noises, throat pulsing, and Hajime’s mind of course went straight to the thought of Nagito sucking on something similarly shaped which also dispenses a white liquid, and he began to seriously consider the possibility that he had been possessed by the ghost of Hanamura Teruteru, which should have been disturbing but he was too far gone, pulling Nagito right back into another kiss. Milk and saliva mixed in their mouths, Nagito was drooling a little but neither of them were going to stop to wipe it away. Tossing the bottle aside, Hajime pushed his free hand into Nagito’s clothed chest, holding him steady with the other and making sure not to push him over, but nevertheless applying _force_. He could feel erect nipples through the thin fabric, and he circled his palm against one. The hardness against his hand, the taste of milk, the level of sensation was nearly overwhelming. He wanted more, he never wanted it to end, how had he lived without all of these amazing feelings?

After stopping for air, instead of returning to Nagito’s mouth, he instead went for his neck. He sucked and licked at the pale flesh, kissing all the way down the side. He buried the hand supporting Nagito in his coarse hair, squeezing his fingers to grab a handful and lightly tug his head back. Nagito let out a filthy whine, and Hajime licked all the way up his throat to his chin, feeling his Adam’s apple against his tongue. He gave one last wet kiss to the neck, the taste of salt only fuelling his hunger, before catching Nagito’s mouth with his again. This had the slightly disappointing effect of quieting Nagito’s moans, but the overwhelming need to feel their tongues together overpowered everything. Pulling Nagito’s body closer to him, he felt a completely exposed erection pressing against his stomach, and he jerked his hips, thrusting against it. The thick cloth of his school trousers was probably a bit rough for the sensitive skin, but Nagito certainly wasn’t complaining about the friction. Hajime moved the hand on his chest, daring to go under Nagito’s t-shirt to feel his skin as he continued to kiss him and rub his clothed cock up against Nagito’s bare one.

The sight of Byakuya Togami’s fresh, bleeding corpse under the table flashed into Hajime’s mind uninvited, and he pulled away and retched. Black patches were starting to cloud his vision again, and he got down on all fours before he could topple over, concentrating on the feeling of old wooden planks through the rug, trying to ground himself.

“Hinata-kun, are you alright?” Nagito asked in concern, breaking the mutual silence.

“No, I’m not fucking alright, of course I’m not! Togami was murdered in this room, and it was because of you! And here I am at the site of his murder, doing this! With you!”

Was Hajime really so disgustingly horny that he could just forget everything that happened? He sat back, pulling his knees to his chest, trying to calm down. His heart had been racing for a different reason, but now it just added to his panic. What the hell kind of person could make out with an insane criminal? An insane criminal who also happens to be a boy. It’d maybe be understandable if he’d been tempted by a pretty girl, but the fact he’d been turned on by holding another boy’s penis… And that terrible, terrible boy knew. Hajime’s stomach cramped with the fear of being found out, he desperately tried to rationalise that no one would believe Komaeda; that as long as another murder doesn’t happen, none of this mattered anyway. But the bile wouldn’t stop creeping up his throat.

Rocking slightly, he finally spoke, confronting Nagito for the first time since the trial:

“What would have happened if Togami hadn’t stopped you? You’d have killed someone? You’d have… killed… me…” Because Hajime knew, despite the tragedy of what actually happened, the true source of this feeling of betrayal that hurt him so much. “You were lurking in the corner behind me, I didn’t need Koizumi’s photos to know I was the nearest person to you!” a thought occurred to him “Do you get off on the thought of killing me? Is that what this is? I’m just a future victim to you?”

There was a pause, Nagito seemed to be genuinely considering his words.

“An ultimate like you choosing to- to do that- to someone like me, it makes me so selfishly happy, it’s more than I could have possibly asked for. People aren’t usually so- mmm- nice to me. I’d certainly prefer it if you didn’t die. And I’m hardly in a position to commit a murder now,” he shook his arms, rattling the chain.

“As for at the party, I was expecting Hanamura-kun to kill me. But yes, I was willing, am willing, to sacrifice any of you for the sake of hope. But I believe Hinata-kun has a strong hope, the trial showed that, and if it is strong enough, someone like me could never kill it! I obviously did a bad job of explaining before, but I’d like it if you could at least understand my point of view.

The death of someone ordinary is considered a tragedy, even though it is an everyday occurrence that has no real impact on the world. For those born with talent, everything they do has the power to improve the world drastically. They truly embody hope, which is the point of Hope’s Peak Academy, after all. You admire the school, too, so you must at least understand their philosophy, hope comes from talent. For the world’s hope to be trapped on an island, unable to share these talents, it’s truly tragic. For any of these ultimates to die, it’s far worse than the death of a worthless ordinary person. It’s more than just the tragedy of a death, it’s the snuffing out of a light of hope. But this is where my so-called talent comes in. In the face of this despairingly bad luck, what emerges from it can only be the most wonderful good luck! 

For you ultimates to just stagnate here, that isn’t hope. In starting the killing, I encouraged someone truly hopeful to take the chance to escape, which is surely a desirable outcome. But I also provided the opportunity for the rest of you to overcome this adversary, to band together and grow stronger, to build up your own hope! Seeing you refuse to just lay down and die, facing the situation head on!” At this, he shuddered, seemingly with excitement. God, he really was getting off on this, why was Hajime still here?

“I don’t think I should give any more time to someone who enjoys the thought of my death.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, I don’t want you to die. I really don’t. But… People I care about don’t last very long. Terrible things happen to those who spend time with me. My luck is a force that works on me, rather than an ability I have control over, and it takes the form of misfortune that then _leads_ to good luck. If I can at least utilise this force for the good of those with real talent, for the sake of bringing a great hope to the world… it would make any death that happens worthwhile. And of course, if your hope is strong enough, it can overcome anything I could do.”

There was some sort of logic to his rambling, but it was definitely a twisted one. To have such strong faith in the power of luck, to think that murdering someone, allowing all but one of his classmates to die, willingly being killed himself, that all of these awful scenarios not only could, but definitely _would_ lead to an ultimately positive outcome… Hajime couldn’t imagine being able to understand that mindset. Which, of course, was why his classmates had tied Nagito up in the first place.

Such conviction about something so batshit crazy, it was frightening. Or at least it should have been, but his words had less of an impact coming from someone in handcuffs, with his dick out. 

Every word coming out of his mouth was poisonous, but Hajime couldn’t deny he wanted to stick his tongue right back in it. Throughout Nagito’s monologuing, Hajime’s distress had turned to **frustration** in every sense of the word. He was hurt, and angry, but not entirely flaccid.

He crawled back over to sit in front of his bound classmate. Disliking the height different, he joined Nagito on his knees. Cautiously, he reached out and stroked his hair, like petting a cat. Nagito seemed startled, but he didn’t say anything. Hajime was starting to think if neither of them spoke, if they didn’t acknowledge what was happening, maybe it would be okay to go back to what they’d just been doing. It’d all felt so good, and Hajime felt like he probably deserved to feel good with all that had happened. He pressed a thumb to Nagito’s lips, parting them, and he leaned in to kiss him. It was gentler, sadder, all the pain of the past few days was poured into it, as he tried to get comfort from the very source of so much of that pain.

“I thought I could trust you,” he admitted, softly, “I-I thought we were friends”

“We _are_ friends, Hinata-kun!” Nagito replied, enthusiastic, but voice cracking a bit.

Aside from the fact Nagito was a traitor who had deliberately tried to get them all killed, this claim seemed almost funny in the context. Emboldened by the realisation he’d have to touch it again to put it away, Hajime grabbed Nagito’s cock and _squeezed._

“This… uh, this doesn’t seem like something friends do.” He’d come too far for regrets at this point, he might as well fucking go for it. He started jerking Nagito off, properly this time, at a medium pace. He desperately wanted a reaction, to make the other boy fall apart at his touch, to prove that despite everything he was ultimately human. Hajime had felt so humiliated, and all he wanted in that moment was to turn the tables. Nagito was the one literally tied up, and yet until now, Hajime had felt like the vulnerable one. With every gasp and every helpless whine that Nagito made, Hajime finally felt in control. And honestly, that was truly satisfying.

Speeding up the movement of his wrist, he brought Nagito’s face to his and licked his cheek. Nagito _whimpered_ , and Hajime felt like he’d won. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure. The smell of precum seemed to engulf them both, if someone came in they’d definitely know, and that’s not even considering the possibility of someone walking in on them now. This was technically a public space- Hajime twisted his wrist- even if it was unlikely anyone else would come to visit someone as worthless as Komaeda. A filthy traitor who didn’t deserve any attention. Nagito practically howled as he rushed him closer to orgasm with a roughness that contrasted starkly with their kiss. The part of his mind that was still thinking rationally was aware that a hand job was definitely an odd form of revenge, but that didn’t stop him.

All too soon, Nagito came with a surprisingly low groan, and Hajime had little choice but to catch the semen in his hand. Despite not being the one to ejaculate, he was hit with a certain amount of clarity, and knew he’d probably be horrified with himself for a long time. A few days ago he’d been worried he had the potential to kill, but the idea he could sexually assault someone had never crossed his mind. Still, it somehow felt like something had been resolved.

The current problem was that his hand was covered in cum, so he stood up, preparing to go clean it in the toilet.

“Wait!” Nagito called out, dazed.

Hajime just pointed to his hand.

“Pocket… left pocket.” He was wobbling, staying up on his knees was obviously a struggle. Hajime knelt down again and put his hand into a deep coat pocket, pulling out… wet wipes? He didn’t even know they came in pocket-sized packets. He cleaned his hand, and then remembered to put Nagito’s dick away, tucking it back into his pants and then buttoning and zipping his trousers back up.

He kind of hoped never to speak of what just happened, but Nagito apparently lacked his own sense of shame.

“Would you like me to… return the favour? I can’t use my hands, but I still have a mouth, and I’d happily do anything you want.”

He’d just assaulted Nagito, and he saw it as a favour. Of course he did, he was obsessed with them, there probably wasn’t anything Hajime could do to change that, he could brutally fuck his throat until he threw up and Nagito would likely thank him for it. Still…

“I’m not gay,” he said, defensively.

“I never said you were, Hinata-kun. In fact, I’m pretty certain you aren’t, although it’d be fair to say you aren’t exactly straight, either.” He paused, perhaps waiting for a response, before adding “I don’t think there are even that many straight people on this island. I’ve observed signs of same sex attraction in half our classmates already, and it’s not as if I’ve had much opportunity to study anyone carefully”

Hajime was not expecting that. It seemed like an attempt at reassurance, Nagito could just be making it up to lure him in, but-

“…Who?”

Nagito smiled, warmly, but with a sense of victory.

“Ah, surely Mioda-san is obvious, at least?”

He thought back to drinking coconut juice on the beach, Ibuki had mentioned she might fall in love with ‘Peko Peko’, and had looked at her with at least admiration. Yeah, definitely not straight. His guilty mind turned to Peko, what would she think of him if she found out what he’d just been doing?

“Yeah, okay, but… it’s kind of different with girls.”

“I’m not sure why you’d think that, but my understanding of societal expectations can be poor, since most people have no interest in spending time with someone like me.” He seemed about to start a self-deprecating monologue, but seemed to realise he might lose his audience. “My observations aren’t limited to girls, anyway.” He stopped, letting the silence linger just enough to build tension before he revealed his trump card: “Soda-kun”

“Wait, Soda? That’s wrong!” he paused, uncertainly, not truly trusting his own ability to notice such a thing. “Surely not?”

“Because of his open interest in Sonia-san? She may be the main focus of his affections, but I don’t think his hormones are quite so loyal in their devotion,” he laughed softly, “when you were bent over the table reaching for juice, he, ah, certainly took an interest.”

“M-me?”

“Sorry to disappoint," his voice was teasing, “but you’re hardly the sole object of his attraction. There’s obviously Sonia-san, but Tsmumiki-san’s interesting positions, Owari-san’s noticeable cleavage, they are all things he seems to enjoy looking at. And that’s not even including what he said about Usami…”

“Oh, God, yeah,” Hajime remembered, “if he’s into Monomi, probably no one’s safe. We ought to keep an eye on him, too,”

He’d briefly forgotten their situation, that Teruteru was dead, that he was dead _because of Nagito_ , so he definitely was no longer in need of watching. And there was no ‘we’, the two of them weren’t in some kind of partnership. He’d defaulted back to their original state, treating Nagito like a friend. He was just a teenage boy. They were just having a normal conversation (albeit a somewhat scandalous one, Hajime felt), words flowing easily. But to do so was to ignore reality. He couldn’t get too comfortable.

“You should probably eat the toast. That’s all I’m here to do, make sure you don’t starve.”

“I’ll happily eat it, but you’ll have to feed it to me.”

Cold toast didn’t seem very appetising, but it also didn’t seem like it’d provide much sustenance, it was a pitiful breakfast even for someone who wasn’t starving. Sure, Nagito didn’t deserve good food after what he’d done, but letting him waste away seemed a bit extreme. Still, it was better than nothing, so he went to pick up the tray. One slice of toast, a pot of butter, and a pot of honey.

He only then realised that Mahiru hadn’t provided a knife.

“I assume you at least want butter on this?”

“Ah, you don’t have to trouble yourself-“

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, then yes, I would prefer butter, but you don’t seem to have a way to spread it. Are you going to use your fingers, Hinata-kun?”

“No! I’ll go and get a knife from the kitchen. Actually, you know what, you’re not going to just have toast if you haven’t eaten all this time. There’s a load of tins in the storage room, I’m sure there’s got to be something proper for you to eat. You seriously need food.”

Hajime wasn’t prepared to leave the old building to fetch something from the restaurant, lest someone see him bringing Nagito yet more food- he absolutely did not want anyone getting the impression he was Komaeda’s maid- but finding him some soup or something in the storage room seemed a good idea. His classmates may have been brilliant when it came to their own talents, but outside of that, they weren’t necessarily the most capable of people. If Hajime didn’t get Nagito some actual food, it was entirely plausible no one else would. The one person he thought could be relied on to make sure Nagito got proper nutrition was one of the people who had tied him up and left him for dead.

No matter how upset he was with Nagito, he was still incredibly angry with Nekomaru and Kazuichi for leaving him like this without a thought. And even if Nagito had been a picky bitch, Mahiru should know better than just getting him toast! And why hadn’t Hajime himself done anything about getting real food when he was handed the tray?

“Okay, I’m going, I’ll be back in a bit.” He made no effort to conceal his annoyance, and he was in no mood to reassure the other boy that he wasn’t the cause of it. He started to stomp off, before remembering the damn piss pan. He picked up the pan, careful not to spill its contents, and opened the dining room door with one hand.

Thankfully he made it to the toilet without making a mess, and emptied it out. It sounded like urination, but much louder, and Hajime tried not to think about how flustered Nagito’s peeing had got him. He was in a room that locked, he could just rub one out right now, and then maybe he’d be able to just feed Nagito and go, without getting _distracted_. But he had food to fetch, and surely he had enough control of himself to at least wait until he got back to his room. He rearranged himself in his pants, tried to think unsexy thoughts, and flushed the toilet.

The storage room was still dusty and cluttered; Nagito hadn’t cleaned it, and it didn’t look like anyone else had bothered to, either. Except, the sheet soaked in Byakuya’s blood- Hajime shuddered- was nowhere in sight. He tried not to think about it as he took a box down from the pile.

Inside were various tins and jars of foodstuffs. Hajime rummaged around, there were tins of beans, fruit, suspicious looking meat. No sign of any cup noodles, but that was probably wishful thinking. He recalled seeing a whole range of instant noodles at Rocketpunch, which would probably be a simple solution, but he wasn’t about to walk to the supermarket to get some. He couldn’t see any soup either, but he did fish out a couple of jars of miso paste and dashi powder, so soup was still an achievable option. And after two days of sweating, he could probably really use the salt. Hajime’s level of cooking ability wasn’t much to shout about, but he could manage a recipe as simple as ‘add hot water and stir’. He decided to take a tin of mackerel to go in the soup- there was a packet of tofu, but Nagito probably desperately required protein; and the other option was the canned meat that Hajime had no intention of touching. He stacked the three items and tucked them under his chin, then headed to the kitchen.

Once he was in the kitchen, he looked around for food, hoping to find vegetables. He shouldn’t be putting any effort into making a meal that was actually enjoyable, all he needed to do was make sure Nagito didn’t starve. But he couldn’t help but want to impress him, or at least avoid disappointing him.

Hajime really wanted to be confident, and the fact he couldn’t remember his ultimate talent really didn’t help when around all his incredibly impressive classmates. And yet, it was Komaeda Nagito, who claimed not to have a proper talent at all, who managed to make him feel more insecure than anyone else. The others were mostly larger than life and often ridiculous, they were enthusiastic about their talents and happy to share them with him. And in return, he always found there were things he could do to help them. They confided in him, they asked for his advice, they made him feel like there was more to him than whatever his talent was. He could still be a good friend, and, above all, he could still be useful.

He couldn’t find anything to add to the soup, all the food from the party had evidently been moved. The feeling of inadequacy threatened to take over his thoughts.

Not that he intended to go down that route again, but at least he’d now found a way to overcome how Nagito made him feel. When reduced to a moaning mess, he was too overwhelmed to judge him. It was a nice thought.

Anyway, he’ll have to settle for plain miso, which is still a considerable step up from toast.

It seemed the old building really was old, there was no electric hot water pot with adjustable heat settings, it looked like he’d have to heat water up in a pan on the stove. He grabbed a small pan down from the shelf, filled it up at the tap, and turned on the heat. While he was waiting for the water to heat up, he found a mixing spoon, a soup spoon, a bowl, and some chopsticks.

Just as he opened the first jar, a vivid flashback overcame him, the feeling of Nagito’s tongue in his mouth. He gasped for breath, one hand grabbing at his chest on instinct. It was alarming how his mind had assaulted him with such an intense feeling, seemingly out of nowhere, and if he hadn’t been on his own, such a thing could have been dangerous. Even now, the wave of arousal felt inappropriate, Hajime really didn’t want to return to the dining room with a noticeable bulge. And yet, he chased the feeling. He let the scene replay in his mind, he let the remembered sensations wash over him, and his pants started to feel tight.

He gently rubbed up against the counter, enjoying the pressure. God, he apparently couldn’t wait until he got back to his cottage like a civilised human being, the urge to touch himself was just too much. He’d literally just had the chance to at least sort himself out behind a locked door, but he was just too gross for that. When did he become someone with so little control? There was something about the sterility of the room that seemed to encourage him, if he was the kind of freak that got off on tasting another boy’s piss, dirtying up a kitchen was only fitting. He stroked himself through his trousers, watching the door over his shoulder anxiously. The fear someone would walk in on him was irrationally high, given he’d surely at least hear them entering the building first. The worry seemed to heighten his senses, and the feeling of his hand against his clothed cock felt better than usual. He reached his hand inside his pants, skin to skin contact, if he was going to be disgusting, he might as well do it properly. He freed his dick from the fabric and exposed himself, moving his hand quickly up and down the shaft.

He noticed the water was boiling now, there wasn’t very much but it was bubbling up, so he turned off the gas with his free hand, the other still tugging furiously. He finally allowed himself to think about Nagito standing over him, as he was on his knees, pissing into his mouth, the hot liquid getting on his face like a warm shower, filling up his mouth faster than he could swallow. Hajime was utterly depraved, he deserved to be treated like filth, who the hell gets off on this? With that final thought, he came in the sink, splatters of thick fluid all up the sides. He stayed bent over the sink for a while, breathing heavily.

He wiped up the semen, mixed the dashi powder with the hot water, opened the jar of miso paste, spooned miso into the pan, stirred vigorously, opened the mackerel tin, added mackerel to the pan, poured the whole mixture into a bowl, and tried not to scream. He unsuccessfully attempted to convince himself that it was just the situation. He was trapped in the middle of nowhere by a fucking stuffed toy, two of his classmates were now dead, it was a stressful situation! Nothing going on right now was normal, so Hajime couldn’t be expected to behave normally either. Except, if he allowed himself to get distracted by his dick, by his incredibly confusing feelings towards Nagito, how in the hell could he think he’d be able to find a way to escape? They had their survival to focus on, and Hajime was a mess.

He leaned over the counter, once again taking deep breaths, in and out. Somehow, they’d find a way off this island. No one else had to die. All they had to do was try their best. And in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter who he was attracted to, as long as he didn’t let it affect his judgment. He filled a glass with water, picked up the soup and returned to the dining room.

“Hinata-kun! You really came back!”

Hajime truly resented how his heart fluttered a little at making Nagito happy, how he still hadn’t managed to remove his positive feelings towards the boy.

“So, uh, it’s just miso soup, with some tinned mackerel in, there didn’t seem to be any fresh ingredients in the kitchen so it’s not even got spring onions or whatever… not that I would’ve spent time preparing anything complicated!”

“You cooked? For me?” Nagito’s eyes were wide with gratitude.

“It’s hardly cooking, it was only slightly more complicated than instant noodles. Which I would’ve got you if there was any.” He carefully knelt down. “Do you want me to spoon feed you, or do you want to just drink out of the bowl? It shouldn’t be too hot.”

“Could I have the mackerel first? Ah, the smell of food is too much for my pathetic body-”

Hajime picked up a dripping piece of mackerel with the chopsticks and brought it to Nagito’s mouth. He leaned into it, grabbing it with his teeth and barely chewing it before swallowing, something Monomi had actually warned Hajime to avoid.

“Mmm, it’s so salty, it’s really good!”

“It’s…it’s tinned mackerel.” He was exasperated by the response to such mediocre fish, but it did make sense that a starving person would take a lot more joy from basic food. And Hajime had made sure to replenish Nagito’s salt levels, so the acknowledgement was nice. Still, he felt stupid for having worried about what Nagito would think, since canned food apparently was enough to impress him.

“Just… please be careful. I don’t want you choking and having it pinned on me as a murder.” He brought more fish to Nagito’s lips, who took greater care in eating this time.

“I got you some water, as well, so let me know when you want it. Bowl or spoon for the soup?” he asked, fishing around for the last bit of mackerel.

“I normally wouldn’t drink from the bowl, but maybe it would be easier…”

Hajime tilted the bowl for Nagito to eagerly slurp from it, making sure not to spill it. It didn’t take long for it all to be drank, and Nagito looked a little embarrassed, as if he weren’t tied up and starved and generally in no position to demonstrate good table manners. Hajime wiped his mouth with one of the wet wipes, a little too thoroughly. He held up the glass, and Nagito nodded, that too was held to his lips and quickly consumed.

He realised he’d forgotten to get a knife for the toast, but since he’d provided a far better breakfast, it probably didn’t matter. Still, he put the plate next to Nagito, he’d be able to wriggle around enough to eat it off the floor unassisted if really necessary. He felt like he had done his duty now and should probably leave, but it seemed Nagito wasn’t done tempting him.

“So, I heard about Monokuma’s new motive…” The ever so casual way he said it made clear he was planning to lead Hajime astray.

Hajime was in no mood to be tricked.

“How did you-? You know what, I don’t want to hear your thoughts on it. Anything you say will just be to- to try and manipulate me. I’m not going to kill or be killed, and nor is anyone else!”

“So you’re just going to ignore the threat that’s standing right in front of you? That doesn’t sound like something an ultimate would do.”

Hajime couldn’t ignore the irony “You’re the threat standing, well, kneeling, in front of me! No one else wants the killing…” he trailed off, remembering a certain Yakuza and his threatening words.

“Kuzuryu-kun, right? But also, you never know who might be less, mmmm, honest about their intentions. I think everyone wants to leave the island, after all.”

“What happened to trusting in each other? You’re so full of shit, I’m not going to let you trick me again!” He perhaps let too much emotion fill his words.

“Someone like me could never trick someone like you!” Nagito’s voice was serious, indignant. “I believe in the hope of all of you ultimates! But I’m open to the possibility that one of you has a stronger hope than the rest, that they will be able to sacrifice everyone in order to bring their hope back to the world. Only someone truly worthy, though. That’ll only happen if everyone else’s hope isn’t strong enough, and I trust you ultimates to put up a fight!”

“Okay, okay, not this again! What do you know about the new motive, did Koizumi tell you?”

“Twilight Syndrome Murder Case. I have mixed feelings, I really like the series… I think it’d be too much to expect Monokuma to have created a worthy entry, but I’d still be interested to see-“

“Wait, so you’ve played the other games? Do you have any idea how it could be used as a motive?”

“Hinata-kun doesn’t know Twilight Syndrome? There was a new one that came out last year, it introduced so many new people to the series! But I suppose something like that can seem a bigger deal when you’re already invested, and specific internet forums may not be an accurate picture of real life. I guess I wouldn’t really know, people don’t generally want to talk to me, all I can really say is that the Twilight Syndrome forums got a lot more active after the release of the first game in eight years-”

“Komaeda. The game. Do you have any useful insights?”

“Ah, sorry Hinata-kun. For the most part, the Twilight Syndrome games are about school girls- and sometimes boys- investigating ghost stories and urban legends. Usually their investigations lead to paranormal encounters, but sometimes the rumours turn out to be nothing more than fairy tales.

The ‘murder case’ part is interesting. Usually the only unnatural causes of death in the series are suicides. There’s only one game that’s full of murder, but since the motive game isn’t called Moonlight Syndrome Murder Case, it’s probably not linked. Moonlight Syndrome is pretty different from the rest of the series, the original protagonists all get killed, and there’s a popular consensus that it’s an alternate universe, hopefully Monokuma will at least recognise that. There are plenty of situations where someone’s death is investigated, though. They may not be about murder, but Twilight Syndrome games are absolutely about the dead. The format could definitely allow for a murder investigation, although I’m not sure where the supernatural element fits in. It might just be that you set off searching for spirits and don’t actually find them, like in the first game where none of the seven mysteries of their school turn out to be real, but some sort of murder scenario is involved.

I strongly suspect that the ghosts will be” he winced, seemingly in more pain than before he’d relieved himself, “…metaphorical”.

“Metaphorical?”

“’Ghosts’ from our past that are ‘haunting’ us,” he spat out in disgust. “There’s no way Monokuma will treat the series with respect. Bringing up people’s past is an interesting motive, but any game created by him is probably a vulgar parody, which I cannot forgive!” His eyes darkened, disturbingly.

“Y-you sure take this game seriously, huh?”

Immediately Nagito snapped back to a sheepish grin, all signs of his previous mood disappearing in an instant.

“I’m just a fan of the series. I like mystery games a lot, and exploring the mysteries behind folk tales- some of which are just in the form of school gossip- is an interesting twist on the genre. Mmmm, and the horror elements are fun, too, although with my luck I always get the good end first try, so nothing too scary happens.”

“There are bad endings? Surely that’s a reason to avoid playing the damn motive game!” Hajime didn’t want to think about what Monokuma would do with a bad ending. Something told him there would probably be real life consequences in the form of some sort of punishment, and Monokuma’s idea of a punishment would not be pleasant.

“Then don’t lose,” Nagito replied, cheerily.

“Let me guess, I just need to be more hopeful. I’m really not used to that kind of game, I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail it first time. If I play it, that is.”

“What kind of games does Hinata-kun like to play?”

"Normal stuff, I guess. RPGs. Going to the arcade with friends is pretty fun, too” Although which friends? He couldn’t quite pinpoint a specific memory…

“Ah, aha, I never really had the friends for that. What does Hinata-kun play at the arcade? DDR?” He gave a cheeky smile.

“So you do go to the arcade!”

“I never said I didn’t go, just that I didn’t go with other people! Although, arcades are too noisy, I prefer to stay at home. Plus of course, you don’t tend to find visual novels and adventure games at the arcade, I think it would end up feeling more like a library!” he laughed, “Maybe then I’d be more likely to go to one.”

“Yeah, something tells me that wouldn’t be very popular.” he decided there was no harm in answering Nagito’s question, “I guess I mostly play shooting and driving games at the arcade, they’re fun to play with other people, and unlike DDR there isn’t really a risk of attracting a crowd. I have the stamina for dance games, but I don’t think I’m very good, and I don’t like people watching me. If a game is difficult, I’d rather play it without an audience, anyway.”

“Hinata-kun isn’t the ultimate Dance Dance Revolution player, then, that’s a shame,”

“A-a shame?”

“We still haven’t uncovered your talent, and of course I’d love to see you dance for me!”

Hajime felt his face heat up yet again. “I wouldn’t dance for you, anyway!”

This was met with more laughter “Of course not, of course not. So, what normal, difficult, RPGs do you play?” Hajime got the sense that if his hands were free, Nagito would have been counting on his fingers for that last sentence.

“I like classic games; I have a bunch of ported games from the 80s for my Game Girl Advance that I’ve definitely played a lot. The original Zelda, Final Fantasy I&II, Gala Omega… I like simple mechanics that I can really master. It usually takes me a while to get the hang of it, I’m definitely not naturally gifted like Nanami, but once I’ve got into a game I can really lose myself in it,” He chose not to mention the fact he’d played Gala Omega five times in a row, far more than enough to explore the entire map and defeat every possible combination of enemies.

“Do you like the game in the lobby?”

“Not especially, it’s pretty simple and there’s no story to it. I can understand why Nanami would want to lose herself in a game, being able to distract yourself from what’s going on would be nice, but I just can’t get into it. It’s kind of soothing to watch her play it, though, she’s just so good at it.”

Nagito had been nodding enthusiastically throughout his answer, and he rocked with each jerk of his head. Looking closer, Hajime noticed his thighs were quivering.

“Would you like me to lie you back down?” he tried not to think about the effort that had gone into getting him up in the first place.

“Ah, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Mmm, if you keep being this kind to me, I might like you even more.”

Hajime really didn’t know what to do with that statement, so he just grunted and carefully lowered Nagito to the ground. It may have just been because he’d done it before, but it seemed really damn obvious how to manoeuvre him this time. His body was still comfortably warm to hold, but it didn’t overwhelm his senses this time, which was a relief. Hajime liked to believe he was sensible, that he was guided by his brain, rather than any other body part, and at least that was back to being true. He stood up, feeling rather smug about how completely together he was, even if it was already too late, Nagito had already seen another side to him. Still, at least it was the only person on the island that nobody would want to believe.

“I think I will play Monokuma’s game. It’s probably risky, but it’s also risky not to play it. And if your theory turns out to be right, the ghosts of the past might actually be from our school memories. Monokuma still hasn’t given us back our memory like he promised, and if there’s a chance there are even some clues hidden in the game, I’d like to at least try.”

The possibility of finding his talent… He couldn’t pass up such an opportunity. He went to leave, feeling a lot calmer and surer of himself than he had before coming here.

He opened the door, and then turned back one final time.

“I- we’re still not friends. I’m not going to forgive you for what you did. And I don’t think it’s safe to have you just wandering around so you can kill someone. But I’ll go and get Nidai and try and sort something out so you can at least go to the toilet.”

Despite his near breakdown in the kitchen, Hajime did feel like they’d made a breakthrough. He wouldn’t let Nagito get to him any longer, there was at least some sort of understanding. And even though he was going to do the very thing Nagito suggested, which would involve going against the general consensus of his classmates, he was sure it wasn’t because he’d been manipulated into it.

But first, he needed breakfast. And to spend time with anyone other than Komaeda Nagito, because he could only take so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please do comment (even if you don't have an account), I read and reply and generally am happy to discuss Danganronpa
> 
> Hinata is generally a mess, and I seem to like writing him that way. Also, gamer Komaeda is canon and I wish it'd be acknowledged more! DR3 decided to make Hinata into games, too, so I want more content where they discuss them!  
> The SDR2 and the Komaeda-centric manga differ on how Komaeda's hands are tied, so I chose handcuffs. The implication in the manga is that Monomi would help Komaeda go to the toilet, but Hinata doesn't know that.  
> One of my notes in my fic ideas document just reads 'possessed by Teruteru's ghost', I only mentioned it briefly here but it's truly the best (worst) thought I've ever had, if someone wants to write it.
> 
> If you liked the bit at the end, I wrote a whole fic of just dialogue about Twilight Syndrome and other games.


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